


2015 Scarefest Challenge

by BlackBat09



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - SCP Foundation, Bloodplay, Fluff, Knifeplay, M/M, Murderteeth, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBat09/pseuds/BlackBat09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Join me as I take up the 2015 Scarefest challenge. And maybe complete it. Maybe. I'm not sure if I'll make it. Tags will be added day by day.<br/>Day 4 is Graveyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Containment

“And how are you today, 076-2?”

“You know that’s not my name, Jon,” the SCP responded calmly, dragging its finger around the rim of the drink it’d been brought at the beginning of the interview. “I thought we could at least have a cordial discussion this time around.”

“The last time someone was allowed access to you and didn’t follow procedure, you killed five people. So I’m sorry, 076-2, but I’ll be calling you by your designation. And I would ask,” Jon heaved a sigh, “that you called me by mine. Junior Researcher Risinger. We’ve gone over this, 076-2.” The humanoid huffed, taking another sip of its Diet Coke as Jon watched it.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Risinger,” it chuckled, tapping scarified fingers on the top of the interrogation table, Jon’s eyes tracing the various raised white symbols on his knuckles until the SCP’s deep voice drew his attention back to its face. “I thought we were _closer_ than that, my dear.”

Jon felt heat spread over his face, keeping his expression impassive even though he couldn’t stop the rather obvious blush. This ma- this _thing_ was a killer. He couldn’t let it get to him, no matter how his heart fluttered and breath caught when it murmured his name in that velvet tone…

“No,” he said aloud, getting a raised eyebrow from the entity. “Absolutely not. There is no _closeness_ between us, 076-2, and there will not be. And if you continue to attempt to _harass_ me in such a manner, I will ensure that you don’t see the outside of your containment for a very, _very_ long time.”

Its fingers stilled on the tabletop, pale blue eyes boring into Jon’s intensely as its mouth flattened into an unimpressed line.

“Is that so, Jon?” it murmured quietly, the scars on its shoulders twisting in Jon’s periphery as he stared the humanoid down. “Is that the best you can do? A pathetic little _threat_?” The researcher swallowed thickly, hands curling into fists to try and stop their trembling.

“It’s not an idle threat, 076-2. I mean every word.” It smirked and began to laugh, dark chuckles turning deep and maniacal as it stood up from its seat, the scars running its body beginning to glow black as it raised its arms. Alarms blared inside and out of the secure chamber as Jon scrambled up from his chair and away from the entity, watching as it summoned rifts in space from which it pulled a pitch-black blade. In an instant, the being was on Jon, its warm blade pressed against his throat as it grinned maniacally down at him. Jon could hear shouts and the pounding of boots from the hall, but it would do little good. They all knew what it was capable of.

“I guess you were right, Jon. I won’t see you for quite a while now,” the entity sighed, free hand gently caressing Jon’s cheek as they gazed at each other. “Remember me when I’m incarcerated, won’t you, dear?” The SCP pressed a firm kiss to Jon’s slack mouth, grinning almost sadly at the researcher when it pulled back and gently pushed him out of the way of the door. It kicked the door open easily, the demonic faces carved in its bare chest gnashing their teeth and rolling their eyes as it walked out into the hall.

“Let’s see how many of you fuckers I kill before you get me back in the hole this time, shall we?” it yelled, the sounds of shooting and laughter filling the hallways as Jon drew his knees to his chest, pressing his fingers against where the SCP’s lips had just been. He knew why it was angry, knew it was his fault that he was going to be killed again.

“Ryan,” he whispered into his hand, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”


	2. Day 2: Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's still Risingwood. Of course. Because I'm weak. Day two is knives, and I had a very good time.

“R-Ryan. Please, don’t do this…”

God, Ryan loved the whimpers. If it weren’t for evidence concerns, he’d have a recording to listen to over and over, to hear the way someone’s breath hitched, pitch raised, every whimpered plea and terrified whine, so close to moans that it was erotic for Ryan.

He wiped a drop of blood from his blade with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth to savor the taste before turning his attention back to the source of those beautiful noises.

“Don’t do what, Jon?” he asked softly, a smile turning his lips up in a gentle curve as he admired his handiwork on the man’s pale body. Shallow lines had been carved across the photographer’s skin, swooping, curling patterns made to accentuate and heighten Jon’s natural beauty, add some color to Jon’s porcelain skin. He was bleeding sluggishly in some places, not at all in others, the hours he’d spent tied to Ryan’s carving station letting the blood start to clot. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured softly, tracing his fingers over one cut on Jon’s hipbone before pressing down on it.

Jon screamed, sweet music to Ryan’s ears as his already-abused voice ripped through a few octaves before dissolving into sobs as Ryan stopped the pressure. The veins Ryan had carefully avoided stood out as Jon strained against his bonds, trying to tense and writhe away from his pain to no avail, eventually sobbing as he slumped back against the table.

“Ry-an,” the dark-haired man breathed, tears streaming down his cheeks and snot dripping from his nose. “Please, Ryan, I don’t understand, ple-ease stop… I don’t- Ryan…” The elder man shushed him gently, stroking his cheek and brushing away his tears.

“Jon, my dear, it’s okay. You don’t need to understand. Just know that I have you, okay? I’ll take good care of you, Jon,” he murmured, brushing another tear from Jon’s cheek as they kept spilling, leaning down to kiss the uncut tip of the photographer’s nose. “I’ve got you, dear.”

Pulling back, Ryan traced his eyes over the planes of Jon’s pale body, selecting a patch of uncarved flesh on the man’s left pec to press the tip of his hunting knife into, dragging it into his flesh and leaving an ornate, scripted letter ‘R’ over the man’s heart as Jon screamed and cried.

“God, Jon, look at you,” Ryan practically moaned, unable to stop himself from leaning down to lap away the rivulets of blood from his lovely victim’s chest, setting his teeth in his flesh as he sucked softly at the wounds, flavor bursting on his tongue as he groaned. He straightened up, licking the warm liquid from his lips and meeting Jon’s fearful eyes with adoring ones. “You taste even better than you look, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cover you in my marks. You’re so amazing, Jon.”

Jon’s eyes fell shut as he started to whimper again, fists clenching and whole body trembling.

God, Ryan loved that sound. He kept an ear out for it as he pressed his knife against Jon’s skin once again.


	3. Day 3: Ghouls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day three is ghouls, and after a little research, I based Ryan's, ahem, appearance, on the original Muslim legend of ghouls as demonic beings, along with a bit of the Western mythology (distracting travelers from the road).

“Well, fuck.” Jon was lost. No use denying it anymore, now that he’d been searching for a way home for twenty minutes and found nothing but more unfamiliar streets and houses. The neighborhood steadily went from finished homes to half-built to frames, empty skeletons of suburbia menacing the photographer with every step he took.

Had he proper cell service, Jon would be fine; but apparently his service provider had decided not to expand this far out yet, and so he truly was lost without GPS or even police to help him. Sighing, he trudged on, following streetlights that seemed further and further apart each time.

He was between two lights when he saw someone approaching from the next, feet tapping loudly against the asphalt of the road as they brought him and the stranger to each other. It was a man, taller than Jon, with blond hair and bright, piercing blue eyes, who emerged into the light, meeting Jon with a warm smile.

The stranger’s head was cocked in interest, considering Jon with those warm eyes.

“Are you lost…?”

“Jon,” he supplied without thought, answering the man’s smile with one of his own. “I’m Jon. And yeah, I’m lost. Been wandering for about twenty minutes. Do you… know how to get out of this subdivision?” The man laughed, a deep chuckle than made Jon shiver just a tad.

“Poor, lost Jon. I’m Ryan, by the way. And if you head that way,” Ryan pointed from the way he’d came, “you come out the other side into a proper neighborhood. More lights than this one, too.”

Jon didn’t know what it was- maybe the way Ryan called him ‘poor’ and ‘lost’, the way he cooed his name, or the way he said the exit was _opposite_ the way Jon had been coming, but he suddenly trusted _none_ of what the blue-eyed man said.

“Well, thank you, Ryan,” he replied, trying to stay calm, “but I think going back the way I came is probably best.” Ryan’s bright eyes narrowed, face darkening as he stepped closer to Jon, who was already trying to back away from the man.

“Oh, Jon. Sweet Jon, that’s a poor idea,” the man murmured, gripping Jon’s wrist tight and not letting the man pull away as the edges of his form seemed to waver.

“Wh-what are you doing-? Get away from me! Let go!” Trying to tug his arm away to no avail, Jon opened his mouth to scream before Ryan pressed a silencing kiss there, a ticklish feeling like wind or smoke brushing Jon’s face until Ryan pulled back, leaving him gasping for air.

His head was spinning, the feeling of Ryan wrapping an arm around his waist like a gentle caress instead of the tight grip it probably took to keep him from collapsing to the ground. The last thing Jon saw before he lost consciousness was Ryan’s feet- or lack thereof.

Where human feet should have been were hooves, the only part of the man’s hazy, changing body that stayed constant. There was no time to wonder what it meant before darkness swallowed him up.


	4. Day 4: Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't question it. I don't even understand, okay? Just... enjoy the fluff.

“Seriously, Ryan? A graveyard?” Jon laughed, shaking his head as his boyfriend’s hands dropped from his eyes to his shoulders, Ryan’s calloused fingertips brushing the sides of his neck.

“It’s a midnight picnic, Jon. Where else would we have it?” he murmured in reply, deep chuckles joining Jon’s laughter before the elder leaned around to kiss Jon’s cheek. “Is this okay, dear?”

Laughs trailing off, Jon turned to meet Ryan’s lips in a reassuring kiss, whispering, “Of course, Ryan,” against his boyfriend’s mouth before stepping out of their embrace, hefting the picnic basket in his arms. “So. Whose grave are we feasting on?” Ryan’s quiet chuckling began anew, his hand dropping intimately to Jon’s lower back to guide him between the headstones and plots to a well-kept mausoleum, ‘Haywood’ carved over the door in strong letters. Jon gasped, turning to look at his lover.

“Ryan… Your crypt? That’s so _romantic_ ,” Jon whispered happily, dropping their feast to throw his arms around Ryan’s neck, giggling when the undead man lifted him off the ground and spun him around. Ryan dropped Jon back on his feet and nuzzled into the curve of his throat, cold lips and stubble tickling the younger and sending shivers through him.

“I hoped you’d like it,” Ryan whispered softly, planting gentle kisses up Jon’s throat and against his jaw, making the young human flush and shudder in his grip.

“I love it,” he breathed, tilting his head to show Ryan the scarred curve of his pale neck. The undead man growled possessively in his throat, dragging his teeth across Jon’s throat and smirking when the human fisted his hands in Ryan’s hair and whimpered softly. “I love you.”

Ryan laughed and lifted Jon properly into his arms, one tight around his waist and the other tucked under his ass before he turned and sat down on the mausoleum steps, letting Jon slide down into his lap.

“Looks like it won’t just be a picnic in the graveyard, will it, dear?” he laughed softly, Jon rising from his daze just long enough to furrow his brows and pout at Ryan’s teasing.

“Shut up and kiss me on your grave, asshole,” he grumped, mood sweetening once again when Ryan pressed their mouths together.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at blackbat09 on tumblr!


End file.
